


Find Faith

by bellamys_cheekbones



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Non AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamys_cheekbones/pseuds/bellamys_cheekbones
Summary: Matt comes to the realisation he was blind to his surroundings and overlooked his feelings towards Tom more than he should.





	Find Faith

Tom gathered all his belongings and threw it in his luggage, zipping it with a great difficulty. It was their last free night in Reykjavik and after putting a brilliant show, they all headed to celebrate it by royally smashing theselves. Well, except for him. He wasn't much of a drinker. He'd rather go to his hotel room and play around with his new camera or reply to some messages on his Twitter account. 

His pyjama pants were too small for him, because last night he ripped away half of his left trouser leg, so Matt was the hero of the situation - as well as the culprint - and lent Tom one of his pairs. He was daft for not bringing more on tour, but he genuinely didn't think something like this could happen. 

Travelling with Matt Bellamy and his drone wasn't exactly the perfect idea for holiday to wish for. The singer was simply in a fruity mood, strapping Tom's trousers to the flying machine and played around the lobby, scaring people, until he lost control over the gadget, crashing it into a wall. The drone was all right, thankfully, but Tom's pants weren't in such a good state. 

He was dressed in a T-shirt and a jumper, because it seemed that Winter in Reykjavik was endless. Tom didn't care he looked like a proper tosser, but he still felt cold. Jittery for England, Morgan called after him, when Tom was leaving the bar without drinking anything. Yeah, he wished. In Devon he had clean and comfortable clothes, relatively quiet environment, if you don't count a baby as a disruption, and mainly a wife. 

On tour, he had Matt to harass him at best. 

The photographer heard rumbling outside his room, thinking that the others must've finally returned from their bender. He swore he won't open to any knocks. Making that mistake too many times for his own good had learnt him the lesson. He switched off the chandelier and climbed in his bed, his eyes immediately dropping, when he heard the expected series of knocks on his door. He smirked to himself and pulled the duvet over his shoulders, when another round sounded through the dark room. 

"Tom, open up, it's me, Matt," the intruder said, sounding desperate. 

"Ha, and you expect me to open, because...?" Tom said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

"I'm not drunk. I'm as sober as a duck."

Tom sat up on his bed, sighed and looked in the direction of the door "Why are you using ducks as a comparison to soberness?"

That sounded like a bang of Matt's head. "Christ, I don't know, it just popped up in my mind. Open the goddamned door, you dafter, or I'll give you the beatings!" 

Tom wasn't sure if it sounded helpless or annoyed, but he'll stay alerted just in case. "Wh-" He couldn't even finish his sentence and Matt started talking, his tongue almost twisting at the speed. 

"Tom, I beg you right here, can I use your room for the night? Dom is invading my room with a bird he is about to shag and I don't really want to mess with them both. Dom is out of it, that lass is out of it, but they'll get off. I won't, because the sleep won't get to me."

Tom was touched, but as well sleepy - everything had a different effect on him than during the day. However, he couldn't offer Matt his room. "Matt, I'd like to help you, but my room is small and has only one average bed."

It seemed that the mighty brain of Bellamy started creating ideas and plotting, but Tom wasn't in mood for these games. "I can't go to Chris' room either, because there's Morgan. Glen and Anderson are together as well, adding to it they're on a different floor. Please, Tom, can I at least sleep on the floor? I really need to get some rest before tomorrow. We're playing in Sweden and we've let the fans here down already, so I want to gather as much energy as I can." 

Tom wasn't up for the idea of Matt sleeping on the floor, because he wasn't a cold bastard - okay, he felt cold at the moment, but he wanted to help Matt as much as he could, so he stepped aside and quickly let the singer in.

"Okay, but I won't let you sleep down there. It's cold, it's rugged and uncomfortable. Climb with me in the bed. We're both relatively small, so we'll fit in." That withdrew a smile on Matt's face. 

"Thanks, Tom. I owe you a big one," Matt said, his eyes trying to accommodate to the darkness. Tom didn't want to switch on the lights, because it would be hard to get to the sleeping mode again. As he alone said, the room was small and you couldn't possibly _not_ find the bed or trip over _anything_.

As if Matt could read his mind, his legs connected with Tom's full luggage and he fell down with a loud thud, bringing the photographer with him as he was grabbing for something to hold onto. It just appeared to be Tom's arm. 

Instant regrets flew through Tom's head as he was fully leaning over Matt's lithe body. But what occured to him as more than half of his body was touching Matt's, was that Matt lost weight. An awfully lot. He mustn't have noticed, because he was seeing him every day, but Elle will be surely concerned, when he'll arrive back to Los Angeles. 

He couldn't let it slide. "Matt, you dropped." To emphasise his thoughts, Tom grabbed Matt's shirt and lifted it up, his hand groping the tenuous skin on his stomach. It was as if he was touching just the bones.

"Really...? I didn't even notice." Matt sounded genuinely surprised and he put his own hand over Tom's on his stomach to see for himself.

"That must be the stress from touring," Tom pondered. "I wonder why do you still stress over it. You're like a god of concerts, you don't have to be afraid of anything!" Tom tried to encourage his friend. That' what he needed the most in situations like this. 

"I'd say so..." Matt sounded completely out of this world. Tom knew immediately that something in his personal life must be wrong. 

"Matt, I know you're stressed from the tour as well, but if there's something else bothering you, you know you can tell me. I'll help you, I promise." 

"I don't think you can help now, Tom," he laughed nervously. "I doubt you could give a ring to Elle and tell her that her fiancé can't keep a stable relationship."

"You'd... cheated, Matt? Is this why you're stressed? You can tell me, I'll be surprised, but at least you'll be partly free of the burden."

Matt immediately reacted, as if he expected Tom's first sentence would sound like this. "No, god no, I didn't! I still love Elle with all my heart." His gaze dropped there. "But I've just realised there's someone I've been in love with for longer than it's healthy and... Blimey, it's hard confessing love to a bandmate, isn't it?" 

Tom choked on his breath hearing Matt's words.

"B-bandmate? You mean you think you love... Dom or Chris?" the photographer asked, trying not to seem embarrassed.

"Yeah, it's someone in the band," Matt said, completely dismissing the name he was supposed to say. "We've known each other for so long that I'm not able to look at him without thinking of the time he told me he received his first blowjob," Matt laughed, squeezed Tom's fingers on his stomach and looked him in the eyes. Tom was aware how his hand felt way too good, way too warm under Matt's touch, and he instantly thought how fragile his friend seems and he couldn't let anyone other than himself touch him. 

He didn't want to lever the name out of Matt, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. "Who's it, then?"

"It's difficult to say, because they're both too good for me," Matt confessed. The grip on Matt's fingers tightened. 

"Don't say that. If one of them stresses you to the point where you're losing weight, no one is good."

"Therefore I'm afraid to say that." 

"Because he has a bad influence on your health? That's one factor, but other than that..." He took a breath and continued. "I need to know, so I can have a word with him. I want you to be alright."

"You can talk to him right now."

"I... don't exactly understand your words." 

Matt thumped his head on the floor and sighed. "Tom, think it through. You're not stupid." 

"I think I know." Tom bowed his head, so it was touching Matt's shoulder. "But I don't want to."

"I knew it." Matt was prepared to get up, but Tom's body tensed and pinned him down to the floor. 

"I didn't say I didn't want _you_."

"But you indicated you didn't want to have anything with me."

Drawing his head closer to Matt's, Tom narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. A raspy voice followed soon. "Matt, shut up, please." Then came the inevitable kiss. 

There couldn't be anything more extraordinary about their kiss; it was innocent at first, but sensing the kiss was surely long-awaited made it more passionate in Matt's eyes. Tom' lips were like he was kissing a cloud - that soft and luxurious, almost exotic - and Matt felt like a traveller discovering new land. He didn't take long to draw out his tongue slightly, silently asking Tom for a permission. This would be another step into their newly revealed emotion-filled relationship, but not one cared about it. They both wanted the comfort the other's lips provided and when the right moment came, when Tom's dark-brown eyes met Matt's blues, there wasn't going to be a way back. 

Tom stood up, bringing Matt with him by lifting the unhealthy lithe waist. But he wanted to cure Matt, for he hated seeing him even slightly sad. Tom watched as Matt's eyes shifted between his own, apparently trying to find a bit of regret. But the photographer was sure there weren't any sings of it, and there won't be. Matt's light body allowed Tom to manoeuvre them towards the close bed, only stopping to ask if Matt will let him step over the line and lay him on the mattress, to which Matt responded by taking the collar of Tom's jumper and sent them falling on the bed together. Another round of kissing embed, both of the men finding themselves they couldn't get enough of the other's taste. From a pure kiss, they got to watery kind, slow movements of their lips, managing to keep their sanity only on the border of not breaking. Tom wasn't sure where to put his hands; it wasn't his first time kissing somebody, of course. But it was his first time kissing _Matt_ , who was now only a skin and bone. Who wouldn't be afraid of breaking him in one clumsy movement? His mind was screaming at him; the rational part sounding through his mind the loudest. Deciding to ignore everything, because nothing else other than Matt mattered anymore, his palms settled on Matt's collar bone.

"Hey," Tom whispered and ran a hand through Matt's dishevelled, but absolutely irresistible looking hair. "I know it's been a long day. We're tired and everything, but even though I may seem careless now..." 

Matt threw both of his arms around Tom's waist, waiting for the older man to continue his statement. "Do go on, I'm listening," he encouraged his supposed best friend. 

"I love you," Tom confessed. It wasn't unexpected for Matt to hear those words. There has always been this strange chemistry between the vocalist and the photographer, but never would he think of Tom admitting something big like love. Again, for that matter, if he counts in his wife. 

But he didn't think about Jaclyn nor Elle anymore. They can and _will_ manage. They're strong together now.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely love writing stories about Tom and I wanted to try something plain, such as a simple kiss. Hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
